Against the Current
by Visionairy
Summary: Spoilers for 5x14-My Bloody Valentine. Famine is dead, and now Sam and Dean have to figure out how they can fight the apocalypse if one is hopeless and the other is dead inside. But first they have to get to Bobby’s.
1. Chapter 1

**Against the Current**

by Visionairy

Spoilers for 5x14. Famine is dead, and now Sam and Dean have to figure out how they can fight the apocalypse if one is hopeless and the other is dead inside. But first they have to get to Bobby's.

**Chapter 1**

Famine was dead, another Horseman down. Sam had reached inside and torn Famine apart from the inside out, and now - now he had to face the consequences. Breathing in great gulps of air while blood seeped off his chin, Sam tried to pull himself together. Looking across at his brother, he saw a mix of emotions stream across his face - fear, sorrow, horror, grief – they were all there.

With knees threatening to fold out from under him, Sam moved to the nearest empty table and dropped down - his recent actions beginning to filter through his pounding head. He'd broken – again. Again! Yes, he'd managed to deny Famine, to refrain from gorging himself on the blood of the demons in this room, but only because he'd satiated himself on the two Famine had personally delivered.

He was weak and self-centered, had no self-control. He had given in to the cravings and, now, once more, 'sorry' just wasn't even going to begin to cut it. Sam sunk down in the chair and watched warily as Dean gave Cas a hand up.

Dean, his brother, the one he had worked so very hard to make amends to over the past months. Sam dropped his head in shame. And just when they had begun to work things out, when they were beginning to feel a real connection with each other again. He had gone and thrown it all away. Sam shuddered. How could he face his brother now?

As Dean reminded Cas to grab the ring, he was already making his way over to Sam, and they both watched as another drop of blood splashed onto the formica tabletop in front of him. Dean grabbed some napkins and shoved them in his hand. When Sam didn't move, Dean swiped one under his nose, "Sam, hey, you okay?"

A rough laugh was his only response. The blood. He hadn't been strong enough to resist it. He had broken. After all that had happened, he had broken. And not just broken, he had shattered right along with the glass table-top as he taken the demon bitch down. Her blood had filled his mouth as it filled his soul, and he had been powerful again. He had been strong enough to protect his brother, and destroy Famine along the way. And yet, looking back, all he felt was weak.

"Sam, come on man – answer me." When Sam still didn't react, Dean began to wipe the blood off his chin. It was dry and crusty and wouldn't come off, so Dean grabbed a glass of water off the next table and used it to clean off the rest of the gore.

But now that that Sam's hunger was gone and his power had been spent, the thought of the blood - pooling in his mouth, running down his throat, flowing through his body - made him intensely nauseous. He had to get it out of him. And, as he saw Dean reaching towards him again, Sam stood and bolted out the door.

"Sam, No!" Dean's voice echoed in his ears – the same thing he'd yelled at Sam earlier, but he couldn't listen any more now than he could then.

"Sam!" Dean reached out to grab his brother, but the chair fell in his way, and Sam was already on the move.

Dean couldn't let him go – not now - not hopped up the way he was again. Dean raced after Sam, slamming the door open with enough force to rattle the hinges. "Cas! Move it - help me stop him."

And just as Dean made it around the corner of the building, he slammed to a halt. Sam was right there in front of him. One arm on the building, one on his leg, he was bent over retching and gagging – nose once again dripping blood.

Dropping a hand onto Sam's shoulder either for support or security, he wasn't sure yet, Dean held on to his brother as he vomited up the remains of his latest meal. Silence seemed the best course of action till he could see where his brother's head was at.

A couple of minutes passed before Sam was finally done. He spit one last time and pushed himself up again. Looking through his sweat-dampened bangs, he could see Cas standing at a discreet distance on the opposite side of him from Dean.

Dean watched as his brother looked around and tried to gauge what Sam was planning. Preparing himself for Sam's fight, flight or fall, Dean kept his arm on his brother as Sam started to move. But Sam only staggered a couple of feet away from the mess on the ground.

"Sam?" Dean stepped around to steady his brother, but Sam wouldn't have it. Instead he looked resignedly at the hand on his arm, and then away from him to where Cas was standing guard. Finally he turned to Dean, "You really don't have to, you know."

"What?" Dean kept his legs loose and ready to move.

Sam turned back toward him and swiped at his nose again. "You don't have to hold onto me, I'm not going to take off." His hand came back up to rub against the area between his eyes, but he noticed Dean's immediate adjustment in his stance, so he dropped his hand. "But I understand, I do."

Dean was wary, "What do you understand, Sam?"

Sam's voice came out resigned, defeated. "I'm not going to fight you, Dean. I'll do whatever you say. I'll just go away if you want." He looked up and then away, "Look, I know I screwed up – and I know … I know I let you down – again." He shook his head, "And, Dean, - I'd say I'm sorry, but … and I am … but…I ." His threw his hand out in frustration, "I just don't know what the hell to say. I can't make up for this – I can't make it better." His voice broke, "There just aren't words …"

He turned to Cas in his frustration, "Look, Cas, why don't you just do it already…" He gestured as if the angel should just get on with it. When he was met with the angel's stoic stare, his voice rose, "… What Anna was going to do. Just do it, and get it over with. I obviously can't be trusted. I certainly can't trust myself." He took that moment to wrestle his shoulder out of Dean's grasp, and yelled, "Just do it!" He dropped his chin to his chest, and his voice and belligerence dropped as well, "Believe me, Cas, you'd be doing me a favor."

Dean stepped back up to him and latched back onto his brother's arm, "That's not gonna happen, Sam!" He grabbed Sam's other arm and forced Sam to face him, "I don't know what to say here either, but I know you're sure as hell not committing angel suicide. Got that?"

Sam just studied the ground, and Dean watched his brother for a moment before dropping an arm to turn back toward the angel in question, "You still hungry, Cas?"

Castiel assessed himself for a moment. "No, the hunger is gone. I no longer wish to consume an abundance of dead meat."

Dean's deep voice pushed further, "Hungry at all, Cas. Anything?"

Castiel paused again before responding, "No, I have no such compulsions now."

Dean turned to look Sam in the eye. He grasped his brother's chin and raised it, "So, how about you Sam?" He saw bloodshot eyes, blown pupils, but still surrounded by a ring of hazel. Letting out a sigh, he added quietly, "Famine really did a number on you man, didn't he." He shook his head in irritation, "So, how're you doing? Wait,…" he added with his finger up, "Take a minute and really think about it, are you, Sam, are you still jonsing for it?"

Sam spun suddenly, only to empty more of his stomach onto the grass. Another minute passed while Dean watched his brother expel more of his insides, "No, Dean," he finally growled, "I don't … ," he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, "… I don't want it anymore."

But Dean held on and Sam wasn't sure if he wanted him to let go.

Dean studied his sibling, knowing he couldn't misread this – he couldn't risk it. "So, you're sure you don't want a hit?"

Sam straightened, "Look, Dean – I know I … I know what I did. And I know where I have to go now. And …," he shook his arm free, "and I know what I did is … is unforgiveable, but …"

Castiel spoke up, "Sam, what you did here, what happened to you, is not unforgiveable."

"Right," Sam gestured upward, "…cause we know how well this turned out last time." He shook his head, and then looked around, from Dean to Cass to the space in between. He didn't want more blood, but he didn't know if he could stay here after how badly he'd screwed up. How could he face Cas or Bobby – and especially Dean - Dean who had so recently finally accepted him back completely as his brother again.

Sam wanted so badly to believe the angel, but he was sure that the one person he _needed_ forgiveness from would be the one that simply couldn't give it – especially not for a second time. This time … this time Sam had known how bad the blood was, what the repercussions were, and yet he had given in anyway. The anguish in Sam's face was palpable.

And Dean reacted, the only way he could. He stepped up to his tormented brother and pulled Sam close, wrapped his arms around his back, and held on – to the one person he knew he would always eventually forgive.

"Sammy, I know you tried. I know you didn't want it this time." He took a step back, grasped Sam's shoulders, and looked directly into his eyes, "This was different, Sam. You didn't lie to me or try to hide anything from me. You told me exactly what was happening to you, and we – neither of us, you or me, could stop it." He let go of one arm to gesture to the man standing off to the side of them, "Cas - one of God's freaking angels, couldn't resist Famine. You think he wanted to be eating day old maggot bait off the floor in there?"

"No, I did not." Castiel frankly informed them.

Dean looked briefly over at the understatement, but then focused back on his brother. "I'd be willing to bet that couple back in town didn't want to friggin' eat each other. How about those two with the gun? Ya' think they just figured, dinner, movie, murder-suicide? And I can say for damn sure I didn't want to get a hug from a naked Cupid – or a freaking Dr. Phil heart to heart with Famine either."

"He lied, Dean." Sam took a small step back, and his voice steadied – his eyes fixed on Dean's. "Demons, and apparently Horsemen, they lie."

It was Dean's turn to scoff, "And they tell the truth, Sammy. You know that, too."

"Maybe," Sam conceded, "But I would know, Dean. I would." Sam nodded pointedly at Dean, "Your 'heart' is still stronger than anyone I know. Despite all you've been through; despite Hell and all the shit that's happened over the past few years --- you - - you're the only thing I'm 100% sure of."

And damn if Sam's conviction didn't almost have Dean believing it himself.

tbc

* * *

It's been a while since I've posted anything, and at least I've enjoyed writing again. Please let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

**Against the Current**

by Visionairy

Spoilers for 5x14. Famine is dead, and now Sam and Dean have to figure out how they can fight the apocalypse if one is hopeless and the other is dead inside. But first they have to get to Bobby's.

**Chapter 2**

Sometimes Dean believed he was as dead inside as Famine had described, and sometimes he just wished he was. Looking at the pain and regret in his brother's eyes, Dean wished he could be numb, that he wouldn't feel his brother's pain just as intensely as his own. But he obviously wasn't numb, wasn't immune to the pain. As long as he and Sam stayed together, and cared so deeply about each other, then he would at least know through the pain that he was still alive inside. So Dean filed that away for later.

Leaning forward, Sam folded his arm in against his stomach.

"Sam?"

"I don't know – it just..," he swallowed and hesitated for a minute, face creased in pain. Gradually, he straightened most of the way up, "It's okay now."

Dean looked closely at his brother. Sweat had broken out on Sam's forehead and upper lip, and his pallor made even Cas looked tanned. Either way, it didn't look like Sam was handling his latest binge very well. The faster they got to Bobby's, as far as Dean was concerned, the better. Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Sammy, look, it's probably best if we…"

"I know." Sam said quietly, "I know. I have to go back there. I want to walk in there myself this time." His hands flexed at his sides. "But, honestly Dean, I don't know if I can do it. I don't know how long I'll be able to go without – when I'll start to crave it – or when I can't control ..." He shook his head in frustration. "Last time it took a few days before I got the shakes. But, Ruby, she'd been amping me up gradually – I was using more and more over a long time. This time, Dean," he choked on the words, "I drank - a lot.

"And," Sam nodded significantly at his brother, "I used it all up in there. I don't feel pumped up, I already feel like crap. Not that I shouldn't." Sam stopped for a minute and then looked over to find their companion, "Castiel, can't you just uh, drop me in the panic room right now? Just lock the door and then meet back up with Dean?" He turned back to work on his brother, "Bobby could just call you guys when he figures I'm …uh, … clean - and then you can decide," he moved uncomfortably again, "…decide what to do."

"Wait, just," Dean pointed at their friend, "… just give us a minute, Cas." Cas didn't look like he felt like doing much of anything right then anyway.

Dean grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him to the side, "Look, you didn't go into withdrawal until a good few days after you stopped 'using' last time, and it's only about, what, 18 hours to Bobby's from here. So you ride with us for as long as you can, and then Cas beams you the rest of the way if it starts to get bad."

Sam took a step toward his brother, "IF it starts to get bad, Dean?" his voice rose in frustration, "Bad is the only way this is going to go! It's just a matter of time now."

"Chill, Sam," Dean moved his hand and pressed it against the front of his brother's chest as he eyed his unsteady sibling. Was it safer to get Sam to the panic room immediately, or should he stay right with his brother as long as he could? Dean just wanted to keep an eye on him as long as he could – make sure he was okay, but his brother had a point; psycho-Sam in the car on the road would be a dangerous combination. The panic room had barely held him – well, when it _had_ held him.

Dean hesitantly turned around, "Cas, what do you think?"

Apparently, Cas was having issues of his own. It was clear that Cas's stomach wasn't willing to hold onto all the burgers he'd eaten either. Wiping his face, he turned back towards the boys, "I am not feeling so well myself."

"Woah, I guess not." Dean pulled Sam a couple of steps in the opposite direction, "You okay?"

"Yes, my body will recover," Castiel informed them in his patient monotone, "But it does not appear it will be comfortable."

"Who'da thought?" Dean exchanged a rueful glance with Sam, "So, Cas, could you zap Sam to Bobby's? Keep an eye on him till I can get there?"

A hint of guilt flashed briefly across the angel's face, but managed to pass as indigestion. "I do not think I should do that." He burped miserably. "If I try it now, it could go wrong."

"Go wrong?" Dean studied Cas, "What do you mean, 'go wrong'?"

Another sound issued from the angel, and he looked quite uncomfortable, "It does take a certain amount of focused energy to travel from one place to another. If I'm off, at all, we could end up somewhere other than I planned."

Dean considered this for a moment, and shuddered "Well, that's just great." Shaking his head, he turned back to his brother, "Well screw this - we stick with Plan A. As soon as we grab our stuff, we hit the road." Dean started steering his brother toward the car, "We'll just have to get you to Bobby's before your Jekyll lets Hyde out to play." He squeezed him briefly on the shoulder before lowering his voice so only his brother could hear. "Just hang in there, Sammy. I got you."

"Dean," Sam sighed and stopped to face his brother, "I'm going to try, I will, but I couldn't control it last time. And once I start to lose it, I don't know what I'll do. And," he waved his hand near his head. "…once it all starts, it's not something I can choose to ignore. And then the hallucinations," he punched his fist into the side of his thigh, "I don't even know what I'm saying or doing." He shook his head, and then pushed his bangs back from his forehead. "Look, If we're going to do it this way, you'll gonna need to use cuffs, and tie me down, too." He paused for a second, "Better yet, drug me. Get the good drugs – dope me up and don't let me down till we get there!"

Dean looked at his brother sadly and shook his head, decision made, "No way, Sam. Ain't gonna happen." He put his hand on his brother's shoulder, once again prodding him toward the car.

Sam moved in the right direction, but wasn't ready to concede, "Why not, Dean? It's a hell of lot better then risking me running us off the road somewhere."

"No." Dean reached the car and slammed his hand on the roof, "First of all, I don't know how the hell it'd react with the other crap in your system." He glared at Sam, "Do you?" He paused, and watched as Sam rolled his eyes. "No," he put his finger up, "It's not happening."

Dean crossed his arms and watched as Castiel opened the door to the back seat. "Hey, Cas, can you - even feeling like shit - could you just put him to sleep till we get there?"

"That the best way you could word it?" Sam quietly grumbled.

Dean swatted him, and Cas ignored them while he considered it, "It would not be wise. In that state, Sam would succumb to the effects more quickly, and violently, if he was not aware of his own mind."

Dean threw out his arms in frustration, "Well what the hell do you suggest Cas, there's nowhere else safe for him to detox and we don't know how much time we have."

Castiel burped again, and wiped his mouth. "It would be best if I put his body to sleep, but not his mind. But he…" Cas hesitated and then turned then to face the taller Winchester, "… but you would not find that to be pleasant, Sam."

"What," Dean asked,"…like a dream state?" They'd been there, done that, and were certainly not anxious to do it again.

"No, it would be more like a temporary paralysis. He could move his head and he'd be able to see and hear what was going on around him, but would be unable to move anything below his neck. He would in effect not be able to do anything to oppose you."

"Sounds good," Sam stepped forward, "I'll do it."

Dean turned back to Castiel, "You can't mess this up - even if you're sick? He'll come out of it okay?"

"I will not hurt your brother, Dean." And again, Dean thought he noticed an uncomfortable expression pass briefly across Cas' face, but if it had been there, it was gone now.

Dean looked back over at Sam, "You're sure? You're okay with this?"

Sam nodded, "As long as I can't hurt anyone else, I'm in." Sam opened the door and dropped down into the familiar seat of the Impala. "You know, you should cuff me while we go back to get our stuff."

"Sam," Dean grimaced, "It's only ten minutes away. Can you hang in till then?"

Sam wondered how Dean could possibly trust his opinion, and he was ready to point out that obviously he had no control over himself - but seeing the slump of Dean's shoulders, he just couldn't bring himself to say it. And he desperately hoped he wouldn't regret his response, "I'll be okay until then, but as soon as you can, Cas, take me down."

Dean knew it was time to get moving. Slamming Sam's door, he pulled the keys out of his pocket and gestured toward the back seat, "You heard the man, Cas, get in, let's go."

* * *

It'd only taken another two minutes to grab their gear from the motel room. Luckily, nobody in town had come looking in their room while they were gone. It was still the same gory mess Sam had left it. Cas was busy putting the bags in the trunk while Dean sat down again behind the wheel, leaning over to where Sam was sitting miserably in the passenger's seat. Dean was still hovering, which meant he was worried, and Sam could tell. "Guess you better get yourself comfortable."

Sam just stretched out his legs as best he could and pressed himself back as far as he possible into the seat, "You might as well get on with it – this is as good as it's going to get."

Dean smacked his brother on the knee, "I'm telling you, Sam, you better have made a pit stop recently, cause I'm not dragging your frozen ass into a gas station john."

"Dean! Just do it already!" Frustration filled his voice and Dean wasn't sure if it was from the current situation, or a taste of things to come. He grabbed the pillows he'd liberated from the room and slid them in between his brother and the door, putting one up against the window to prop his head against.

Sam was extremely tempted to heave the pillow back at his sibling, but worked on controlling his rising irritation. He would have to do everything in his power to control his emotions if he was going to be any help at all on this trip.

Dean grabbed a couple of bottles of water and put them in easy reach. He watched as Sam searched for the belt, jerked it across his lap and then shoved it into the buckle. "Wow, bet you're wishing we had shoulder belts right about now – could be awkward if I hit the brakes."

"Just," Sam once again resisted growling at his brother, "Just be careful."

Cas slid into the back seat, closed the door and leaned forward. "Are you ready for this, Sam?"

Dean looked at his brother's face. He certainly wasn't looking any better, "You good?"

"Let's just get it over wi...," and before Sam could finish his sentence, Castiel touched his neck – and he felt the disconcerting loss of his body. It was creepy.

"Sam, you okay?" Dean's concerned voice broke through his thoughts.

"I'm g'd," Sam slurred, "s' weird."

Dean looked closer. "Weird? You're not having any trouble breathing or anything, right?" He turned, "Cas?!"

Sam tried an experimental deep breath and shook his head clumsily, "Nah – "

"A little," Cas groaned from where he was stretched out in the back seat, "my stomach still feels like it's going to rupture."

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother while his thumb and forefinger moved out to encircle Sam's wrist. He held it just long enough to assure himself of a consistent pulse before he raised it up even to his brother's eyes, smiled, and then let go. Sam's eyes followed as it flopped onto his leg where it bounced twice before it lay awkwardly in his lap.

Sam rolled his head to face his brother, "S'this the way th'ole trip's gonna be?"

Dean smirked at his sibling, "At least it's entertaining."

Sam huffed, "So gl'd I can c'ntribute – con-tri-bute." At least control of his tongue was starting to return.

Dean patted his knee patronizingly, "There you go, just keep practicing." Dean smirked, and putting the key in the ignition, he started the engine, "Cas, you okay? Cause if you're thinking of puking again, this is the last chance. You know the rules."

Cas was restless in the back seat, and groaned as he moved again. "I will do my best to adhere to your request."

"Good. Just - keep it that way." He met Sam's eyes, and read the weight of the world there. "Hey, why don't you try some of those zen chants you used to do, Stanford boy." It was going to be a rough ride with Sam staring at the side of his head the whole way. "You're going to need it later."

A rough laugh was his response. Sam looked at him as if he had something more to say, but then as Dean pulled away from the motel and headed out of town, he just pushed his head back against the pillows and stared out the window.

tbc

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I certainly appreciate any comments you might have. Thx!


	3. Chapter 3

**Against the Current**

by Visionairy

Spoilers for 5x14. Famine is dead, and now Sam and Dean have to figure out how they can fight the apocalypse if one is hopeless and the other is dead inside. But first they have to get to Bobby's.

**Chapter 3**

The sun had set almost an hour ago, and thankfully the hours had passed without incident. As Dean waited to pull out of a gas station with another cup of coffee in hand, he glanced over the back of the seat to check on his silent passenger. Cas was stretched out in the back, eyes closed, seeming to have found a place to settle. Though the angel didn't sleep, apparently he had found a way to recoup.

Dean's scrutiny turned next to his brother. Sam hadn't moved. He lay motionless against the pillow, facing forward, eyes closed. Even in his sleep, Sam was always a man in motion, so seeing his brother laying there without so much as a twitch, made Dean extremely uncomfortable. He looked closer, and was relieved to see that even though Sam didn't have control of his body, apparently his body had no problem continuing the movements that allowed him to breathe. Dean, though, still couldn't resist the urge to check Sam's pulse again.

Grasping his brother's wrist, he was assured that Sam's heart was still beating strong, though with more beats per minute than Dean found comforting. Gently replacing the hand back on Sam's lap, Dean checked his face. Sweat still beaded lightly along his upper lip, and caused his bangs to gather haphazardly across his forehead. Mouth held in a taut line, Sam may still have had his eyes closed, but Dean knew he wasn't sleeping. He could feel the tension emanating from his brother despite his unresponsive limbs.

Dean squeezed his knee gently in commiseration as he pulled smoothly out onto the blacktop. He drove in silence for a while before turning the radio on softly. He rolled briefly through the meager offering of local stations before switching it off again. He looked back over at his brother, and the lines of tension had not eased. "Look, Sam, you don't have to keep your eyes closed. Finding your inner Buddah was just a suggestion."

Sam's lips tightened fractionally before his eyes eventually slid open, "I can't, Dean. I'm trying to relax, but I just keep seeing the demons."

"So," Dean glanced over at his brother, "You're just processing the shit. No different than the usual, emo-boy."

Sam didn't respond, instead sliding his gaze away from his brother to focus on the road.

"Sam," Dean pressed cautiously, "How're you holding up?" Sam didn't look much different than the last time Dean had checked, but he needed to keep a handle on the situation. And he needed to know what was going on in his brother's head.

"Come on, dude, talk to me." Dean paused hoping that his brother would fill him in, but Sam just swallowed and the muscles in his chin twitched. "Hey, Sam," Dean laid his hand on Sam's arm, "Do you feel like you're …"

"No," Sam snapped at him, and then took a steadying breath before turning to face him again. "Look, I just know it's going to get bad here soon." He grimaced, "Well, worse than the bad it is now. And, I just wanted to say…I know I brought this on myself."

"Sam, No. - Enough, - The first time was you, okay." He glanced over to see if his brother was really listening, "But this time - this one's on Famine."

Sam shook his head, "Even if you say that - that this time it was Famine's fault, what difference does it make?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Of course it makes a difference, Sam. It makes all the difference."

"Yeah? You'd think. But what about next time? Cause next time, Dean - next time it'll be Death or Pestilence - and eventually it will be Lucifer." Moisture was gathering in the corner of Sam's eyes, but he was powerless to do anything about it. Blinking, he focused on his brother. "I tried, Dean, I really, honestly tried, but I still couldn't control myself. - I gave in. Famine sent the demons to me, but I was the one that stabbed a hole in their throats and sucked their blood."

Dean gripped his fingers tighter to the steering wheel and stared straight out into the dark.

"Demon blood, Dean. And, yes, after all this, all of what happened – I truly believed I had learned my lesson." Sam squeezed his eyes together to try to clear his vision, and was mortified to feel a lone tear roll hesitantly down his cheek. He shook his head to rid himself of it. "Look, I knew you didn't believe me - that I could stay away from the blood. I know that for a long time, you couldn't trust me at all. And I understand it, I do." Sam dropped his head back into the pillow and blew out a breath, trying to get a hold on his emotions, "But the truth was, and as crazy as it sounds - **I **still did. After I realized what I had done to you – to the world - I truly believed that I would never, _**never**_, drink demon blood again." His voice softened, "I'd kill myself first."

Dean's gaze jerked quickly across to his brother, ready to jump in, but Sam just kept going. "I learned, after Ruby and Lilith, that I couldn't trust myself the way I used to. I couldn't trust my own instincts or my gut feelings anymore. And man, at times, I just felt like I was drowning. But," he blinked a couple of times as two more tears tracked down his face, "I just couldn't think of any situation that would be so jacked up that I would be tempted to down demon blood again." Sam twisted his head against the pillow to try to wipe his face.

"Sam …" Dean began, but after seeing his brother's efforts, he simply reached across and sacrificed his sleeve to allow Sam some dignity.

Sam gave Dean a tight smile, and then tilted his head down allowing his bangs to fall down across his eyes, "I mean there were a couple of times when there was demon blood on my hands, like when I killed those two that were travelling with War - that I realized I could still be tempted." He swallowed and shook his head slightly, "But it wasn't hard to remind myself of the consequences. And I had to believe in at least that part of myself again." Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Even when those two hunters showed up, when you were hunting with Cas,…"

"Hunters? What…" Dean's foot instinctively pressed down harder on the gas, "What hunters?"

Sam's gaze turned out the window for a long few seconds, and then slid back to his brother. "Hank Miller, Reggie Jones, Steve Fuller. They wanted my help on a hunt I'd told Bobby about. But I wouldn't … I couldn't help them. Like I said, I knew my limits." Sam took another deep breath, "But after the job, they came back. Apparently the demons had gutted Steve … but then they also made sure to tell them about me." He looked pointedly at his brother, "Hank and Reggie wouldn't leave it alone."

Dean's foot hit the brake before he even realized it, "What the hell, Sam! Damn it!" He threw his arm out in front of his brother before his face collided with the dash. "Shit." Holding his brother in place, Dean used his other arm to steer off to the side of the road. He grabbed Sam's shoulders to settle him back in, body facing the driver's seat. "Freaking morons! What'd they do?"

Sam twisted his neck, jerking his chin up, "Hank wanted my help to avenge Steve's death. He wanted me to 'Hulk' out and go ballistic on the demons that had killed him." Sam squeezed his eyes closed again, "They had demon blood with them, Dean, and I fought them – I did. But they forced it into my mouth, and then Reggie clamped down on it until they decided I'd finally swallowed before then they let me go."

"Son of a Bitch!" Dean slammed his hand on the wheel. He knew it had been a bad idea to split up, what the hell had they been thinking. How could they both have thought that that was the way to go?

"I didn't swallow it, Dean," Sam titled his head up to grab his brother's attention, "I didn't. I held it, and didn't let it get past my throat. When he finally let go, I spit it right back at them. Then I managed to get hold of a knife and I stopped it."

A relief he couldn't express rushed through Dean at those words. He shook his head in relief and slapped Sam's knee before recognizing that his sibling couldn't feel it. "Way to show them, Sammy!" But as another thought suddenly crossed Dean's mind, his joy was short-lived, "So, what happened to the assholes after you shoved their offer back at them?"

"They left," Sam eyebrows shrugged briefly, "I wasn't going to kill them, Dean."

"Yeah, I figured as much." Dean shook his head. "Look Sam, I'm sorry, I really am, that I ended up setting you up for those bastards."

Sam pushed back into the pillow and turned back toward his brother, "Dean, that's not on you. I was the one that chose to leave."

Dean gave a tight laugh and jerked his chin toward Sam, "Tomato, to-mah-to, little brother." He reached over to grab a bottle of water and angrily jerked the top off and sent it flying. "So that means they're still out there now, spreading the word?"

Sam watched his brother tilt the bottle toward him. "Yeah, I'd guess so."

"Well that's just freaking great." Dean moved the bottle to Sam's lips and held it carefully so Sam could control the angle of it with his mouth. "If Bobby's not on that already, we'll talk when I get there. We'll figure something out. They're sure as hell not going to come after you again!"

Sam winced, "_If_ Bobby wants to see me when he finds out. Dean, does he even know we're coming?"

Dean nodded and started the car again, "Yeah, I called him before we left and gave him a head's up. He said he'd have what we needed, and it would only take Cas and me a few minutes to set things up for you."

Sam cringed, picturing exactly what they would be setting up for him.

"Hey," Dean snapped to get his brother's attention, "He also said to tell you that he'll have a bottle of his best whiskey waiting for you for after," and then added in an exact rendition of their old friend, "ya idgit."

Sam gave sort of a sad half-smile, "I don't know, Dean. I'd say by now I've worn out my welcome, even with Bobby."

"What, you're kidding me, right? Little Sammy Winchester – the first person that could ever wrap mean ol' Bobby Singer around his little finger. When you were little, you got away with so much crap when we were there."

The left side of Sam's mouth twitched up for a second, "And so it continues …"

"Yeah," Dean laughed, as he pulled back out onto the road, "… at least that doesn't change."

* * *

The next hour or so was filled with a comfortable silence until Dean noticed that Sam was getting decidedly restless. "Hey," he rested his hand on Sam's shoulder, "You doing okay?"

Sam shifted his head again, this time facing his brother, "I don't know, I just feel weird."

"Weird – weird? --, as in 'I'm about ready to jump out of my skin' weird, … or just weird – you know, for you, weird?"

"No," his forehead wrinkled as he considered it, "Hell, I don't know. I just want to move."

"Okay, okay – easy. Hang on a minute." Dean pulled off into an abandoned gas station and shut off the car. One lone street light was still flickering away. Dean came to a stop underneath it. Cas moved forward to offer his assistance, but Dean slapped his hand away, "It's okay, I got this."

"Is he well?" Cas' voice sounded stronger than it had for a while.

Dean glared back, "Does he look well?"

Cas leaned forward to look closely at the youngest Winchester.

"Personal space, Cas." Dean growled.

Cas retreated to his spot in the back. "No, he does not."

Sam twisted his head as far around as he could to address the angel, "_He_ is still here, you know."

"Easy, Sammy," Dean reached forward and putting his hand behind Sam's, pulled him gently against his chest. He could feel how tight his muscles were there, and could feel his jaw clench as he held him tight with one arm while he reached behind him with the other to resituate his pillow nest. "It's okay, Sammy, just try to relax." He took a minute to rub his brother's neck to try to loosen the tight muscles there, but Sam just tensed up, so he gave his neck a quick squeeze and settled Sam back down so that his brother was leaning back a little further in the seat. "Better?"

No, but Sam was starting to believe that it wouldn't be better for quite a while. "Yeah, thanks. I'm good now."

"Really," Dean sounded just as skeptical. "You know what, just use some of those yoga chants or whatever you said you used to do to relax. Or, you know, repeat some exorcisms. Count backwards from 100 – in Latin. You can do this."

Sam didn't look convinced.

"Look, Sam, I know this isn't going to be easy … in fact it'll probably suck worse than last time 'cause you already know what's coming. But,…" Dean grabbed Sam's chin as he started to turn away, ".. but … I know you can do this. You got through it before," and before Sam could interrupt, "You did. You were almost out of there. And you can do it again. You're a Winchester, you're my brother – and no friggin' demon blood is going to stop you. You can believe that. You'll kick that shit out of your system, and we'll be back on the road before you know it."

"Your brother is correct," Cas spoke up from the back, "In fact, l – I should probably tell you…" .

"Cas!" Dean groaned, "This is between Sam and me. Just, for now, pretend you're asleep."

"Ah." Cas debated whether he should continue, but decided this would not be the time, "I'll be quiet now."

"So …" Dean brought his attention back to his brother, "…are you with the program or not?"

Sam rolled his eyes and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, "So that's it, that's the pep talk?"

Dean narrowed his eyes, "Hey, that was good. If ya' got anything better let's hear it, cause I'm all ears."

"Nah," Sam shook his head slightly, "That's good."

"Okay, then. We're burning moonlight, so let's get a move on. " Dean started the car and pulled back out onto the road.

_tbc_

* * *

I was planning to post this earlier, but I found I wanted to re-edit it a few more times. So, what do you think?


	4. Chapter 4

**Against the Current**

by Visionairy

Spoilers for 5x14. Famine is dead, and now Sam and Dean have to figure out how they can fight the apocalypse if one is hopeless and the other is dead inside. But first they have to get to Bobby's.

**Chapter 4**

Not more than half an hour passed before Sam stretched his neck and rolled his head as far as he could to one side and then to the other till he felt a crack. Then he relaxed back against the pillow and stared out the window.

Ten minutes later, the process repeated itself, this time he rolled his head in a circle before dropping his chin to his chest and stretching it as far as he could before bringing his head back up again and pushing back into the pillow. His eyes roved around the car and then settled out the window again.

No more than five minutes later he started up again. Dean glanced over at his restless sibling. Sam blew out a breath, then stretched his chin as far as he could up towards the roof, and rolled his head slowly from shoulder to shoulder again. Clearly the paralysis was getting to him.

"You're going to break your neck if you keep doing that." Dean kept trying to focus on the road and on his brother at the same time. "Look Sam, do you need to take another break? D'ya want to lay down in the back for a while?"

Sam turned back to face his brother, "No, I'm okay. I just want to get this over with." He dropped his gaze to his lap for a while and then took a deep breath before looking back up at his brother, "Listen, Dean, when we do get to Bobby's – when you get me secured in the room - I want you to just leave me alone in there. I just, I don't want to hurt you – and you know it could happen. Last time you said you had to tie me down 'cause my powers were throwing me around the room. Well, if that's the case, I could do the same to you without even knowing it."

"Sam…" Dean started.

"No, Dean. It's true. And it's not just that." He hesitated and then lowered his voice, "I don't want you to see me like that."

"Like I haven't seen…"

"Dean, just … just listen." Sam gathered his thoughts for a couple of seconds before he went on, "Look, I don't want you to hear what I say while I'm in there. I don't trust myself. I'll say things, things that aren't true, just to get to you." He looked over at his brother, "Dean, we both know there's more than one way we can hurt each other."

"Get some sleep, Sam."

"No, I mean it Dean. Just stay away from me until I'm clean. Please."

Shaking his head sadly, Dean looked back over to his brother, "I can't promise that, Sam."

"Dean ..."

"Sam, I know where you're coming from, really I do. We've both said things that …," he shook his head in disgust, "But, this time, this time we know it's the blood talking."

Sam's jaw twitched, "Dean, people are still dying out there. There are still two more horsemen. Maybe you and Cas could track down some leads. Bobby'll call you …"

"No, Sam. It's not happening. I'm not going to hang you out to dry on this."

"Why? It's not as if you can do anything to stop it or to change what I'm going to do. But, Dean, the things that I might do, that I might say that I can't control, I don't want you to be there for that. I don't want to risk saying something that will hurt our ...."

"Sammy, I'll give you your space, I will… but I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving Bobby's until you're ready to go with me." Hands gripping the steering wheel, he offered Sam his expression that clearly showed his mind was made up.

Sam rolled his eyes, and tried to figure out how to reword his objection, but Dean just reached over and rested his hand on his shoulder, "Besides, I really thought you'd learned the lesson."

Sam's eyes narrowed, "The lesson?"

"The lesson, Sam. T-h-e lesson." He slowed the car and nodded pointedly towards his brother, "The one both heaven and hell, tricksters and demons, angels and archangels, friends …" he paused meaningfully, "… both past and present, Mom and Dad … hell, they've all taught us – and _we_," he gestured between the two of them, "…we spent a lifetime learning." He squeezed Sam's shoulder in emphasis, "We stick together, Sam. _We_ watch each other's backs. We _are_ stronger together, and …" he rolled his hand for his brother to continue, hoping Sam would catch on, "And …"

Rolling his eyes, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, Sam picked up where his brother left off, "… and we keep each other human."

"Damn right, little brother," Dean slapped Sam's knee, "That's the one."

With a resigned nod from Sam, Dean pulled his focus back to the road. A few minutes later, Sam started his stretching ritual again. But after rolling his neck once and then pressing his head side to side, he finally settled back into the pillow, and this time after ten minutes had passed, Sam just closed his eyes.

* * *

By the time dawn was breaking, Dean had to pull over to get some gas. Sam's restlessness had been increasing significantly during that time, and the frustration he was feeling from not being able to move was getting on his very last nerve. The muscles in his neck spasmed from time to time though he was doing everything in his power to ignore it. About an hour earlier, as he'd stared out the window at a hawk circling overhead, just as an experiment, Sam tried to move his little finger. He couldn't do anything at first, but over the miles, and with some deep concentration, Sam had finally felt a twitch.

Now, when Dean finished filling up the car and knocked suddenly on Sam's window, he felt his finger jump further at the sound. "Hey, either of you want something to drink or anything?"

Cas slid forward in his seat, pleased to be included once again. "Sudoku. And a pen."

Dean stopped and then tilted his gaze to the back seat, "Sudoku? You gotta be kidding me. Seriously, Cas?" He shook his head as he looked back to Sam, "Yeah, I'll be sure to get right on that. Sam?"

"Water," Sam ground his teeth together again, "Cold this time."

"Yeah, you got it. In fact I'm going to get you one of those beer hats while I'm at it. The ones with the bottles on top with a straw that reaches your mouth." Dean grinned, Sam just glared back.

But as Dean headed off to pay and get the supplies, Sam continued to test his extremities. After a few minutes of intense focus, he realized that not only could he get more of his fingers to respond, but he could actually begin to feel his toes shift in his shoes. Sam decided that if he could move just a little more, he could get comfortable. That's all he wanted, after all, and it was reasonable. If he could just get more comfortable, he could control himself longer. That was what they all needed.

An old dog skittered behind the truck in the lot across from him, but Sam just concentrated on moving his wrist. He was focusing so hard that when Dean opened his door, he was startled to find himself falling toward him.

Dean quickly leaned in to hold him in place. Screwing the cap off the water bottle, he held it near his brother's lips. Sam opened his mouth just a little, and Dean tilted the bottle up for him. "Easy, take it easy," he cautioned, "…you don't need to choke."

After Sam had had his full, Dean squatted next to him, looking up into his face. Sam was sweating despite the cool morning air, and that wasn't a good sign. Dean put his hand against his brother's neck and felt the heat there. Sam twisted his head away.

Leaning in closer, Dean spoke softly, "Seriously, Sam – how're you doing?"

But Sam couldn't answer. A battle was being waged in his head. He wanted to answer Dean truthfully, he did. But if he did, Dean wouldn't let him move. He'd try to stop him. He'd tie him down and not let him go. Desperately, Sam tried again. This time not only could he move his fingers, but he was able to twitch his wrist as well. And when he really concentrated, his ankle moved a quarter of an inch too.

"Sam?"

"No"

But Dean could barely hear him, "Sammy?"

"No!" Sam ground out. "I won't do it."

"Hey," Dean tensed. Bracing his hand on Sam's shoulder, he looked into the anguished eyes of his sibling. "What are you saying? No? What won't you do, Sam?"

"Dean, listen to me." Sam spoke urgently, spilling out his words while he still could, "Cas better whammy me again now, 'cause I can already move my fingers, and," he concentrated again, "my wrist, and if I try harder, I think I'll be able to move more. And…," he looked meaningfully at Dean, "… I'm beginning to really want to."

Dean stood up quickly and looked over to the backseat. If Sam was losing control of his mind, but gaining control of his body, they had to act quickly. Dean couldn't risk losing Sam now. "Cas? Can you stop him?"

Cas leaned forward. "He should not yet be able to move. His powers must be making him stronger than I anticipated."

Sam tried to stretch his leg, and felt his knee budge. Breathing faster, he turned his head as far as he could to the back, "Knock me out, Cas. Please. If you can't, then take me to Bobby's. Just – I can't … just put me out now. I don't think I can control it anymore. Please."

Cas looked questioningly over to Dean, who gave a tight nod, "Do it."

"I am sorry, Sam." Castiel touched his forehead, and Sam, thankfully, didn't wake up again until Dean was securing him to the bed inside Bobby's panic room.

tbc

* * *

So, what do you think? Your reviews would truly be appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Against the Current**

by Visionairy

AN: Final chapter – thanks for reading!

**Chapter 5**

Low voices, and a persistent tugging on his ankle brought Sam around. He groaned and tried to sit up until he realized that his wrists and ankles were tethered. Still groggy, he opened his eyes to slits, and squinted at his surroundings. He could make out Cas stepping away from him, just as Dean moved in closer. Recognition of where he was, was quickly followed with pain as it awakened every raw nerve ending. He screwed his eyes shut again. Taking a deep breath, he held it while he tried to get a handle on himself. So, back in the panic room. At least he'd made it that far. Slowly, he blew out the air through his clenched teeth.

A cool cloth was wiped across his forehead, and then down the sides of his neck. Sam opened his eyes to confirm that it was his brother standing there with him. Dean. Or was it? Shit. "Are you," he grit out through a dry throat, "you?"

"It's me, Sammy." Dean rinsed out the cloth and then gently lifted Sam's head to cool the back of his neck. "Are you, you know, you?"

"Barely." Sam's face was creased in pain.

Dean reached down to grab a plastic water bottle off the floor. Apparently he'd been planning ahead since this one came with a straw attached. Sam wasn't sure if he was touched or angry they'd planned for this, but it did make drinking while lying down a lot easier. When he was done, Dean strapped it to the side of the bed, and ran a tube up to lay on the pillow near his head. Sam just turned his face away and tried to curl in on himself. The pain and need was growing by the minute. "Dean," he ground out, "You really need to go now."

Dean, instead, dropped down to sit next to his brother on the bed, "Yeah I know, in a minute. But first Sam, we have to talk."

Sam's cuffs rattled as he tried to move his arm, "Better talk fast."

Dean rested the cool cloth gently across Sam's forehead, "Okay – while you've been sleeping, I've been thinking." He paused for a minute to make sure he had Sam's full attention. "We need to make a deal."

Sam gave a tight laugh, "Yeah, that's just what we need - a deal." He couldn't have loaded more sarcasm in his tone if he'd tried.

Dean swatted him on the leg, "Not that kind of deal you moron."

Sam responded by jerking at the cuffs holding his legs, and Dean knew the time to reach the rational side of his brother was almost past. "Look, you promise me you'll hang in through all this crap – the pain, the cravings, the nightmares, the hallucinations – all of it. All the way through," he tapped Sam's cheek to make sure he had his attention, "Okay?"

Sam forced his eyes open and zeroed in on his brother's. "Yeah?" he growled, "… and you?"

Dean looked uncomfortable, like he was in almost as much pain as his brother, "I will try …" he hesitated, then dropped his head to stare at his hands. When he paused too long, Sam nudged him with his elbow to go on.

Dean scrubbed his hand down his face, then looked directly at his brother, "Once this …," he gestured around the room, "… is over, I will try to find a way..." Pausing again, Dean shifted on the bed and let out a breath. Dean looked like he was still struggling with his side of the bargain. Now he definitely had Sam's full attention. "Look Sam, what I'm trying to say is that we need to believe that we will beat those sons of bitches. And I'm not talking about us just preventing each other from becoming homicidal meat puppets. We gotta know that we'll find a way to save everyone - the whole enchilada." He squeezed Sam's forearm, "And I promise you that I will believe that we can."

"Hope, Dean?" Sam actually smiled for a moment before his leg spasmed and he was jerked back by the cuffs. He took a minute to still himself before facing back up to his brother. Sam's eyes bore directly into his as if the whole world was down to this, "Even after this," Sam shook the cuff on his arm, "… you really believe we can win?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "You work on your part, and I'll work on mine."

Sam suddenly glanced over to his right and tracked something only his mind could see. Then he blinked a couple of times and focused back on his brother, "Trying to prove Famine wrong? 'Cause I thought we already had that settled."

Dean stood up indignantly and grabbed the bowl of water off the floor, "You really are a pansy, you know that?"

Sam's raspy laugh broke off into a cry as another muscle seized. Dean rubbed at his shin until it stopped, then he moved around to pick up a bucket and move it close to the bed. Sam was staring back into the shadows on his right. Dean shook his shoulder, "Well, are you in?"

As Sam slowly swiveled his head back to focus on his brother, he managed to squeeze out his last coherent words for the next three days. "Deal," he ground out through clenched teeth, "Now, quick Dean. Go."

-----

Dean tilted the whiskey bottle up to his mouth and let the warm liquid run down his throat. Sam's screams were tearing him apart. It should've been easier for him this time. He'd been here before - he knew some of what to expect, but it didn't help. It didn't help at all. In fact, as he'd feared, it was so much worse this time. Every entreaty, every cry, every sound that echoed out of that friggin' cell, was amplified and ricocheted around in Dean's head.

Last time, and hell, he knew it was warped, but last time a part of him felt Sam deserved what he got.

Dean acknowledged that, in some ways, he had believed that Sam had earned the pain he'd felt. He'd brought the agony and delusions upon himself. After all, he'd followed a demon and betrayed his brother. And as much as he hated to see Sam fight his way through it, a part of him felt some vindication at the same time.

This time, though, this time was different. Now, after all the hard fought efforts to find common ground again, they were reconnecting. They had both talked – and listened. They both understood each other better. Both had gained hard-earned perspective. Dean had talked with Sam, had understood, not necessarily agreed, but had understood what Sam had gone through – why he'd chosen some of the decisions he'd made. Sam, through addiction-free eyes, saw both his and Dean's actions in a different light. He was particularly grateful one drunken night when Dean once again trusted him enough to reveal some more fragments of what he had experienced down below. And Dean was surprised to find out that it really did help.

And now – just when they were getting back into their groove, Famine had come along – just as they were on the brink of being 'Sam and Dean' again.

They just couldn't catch a break. Just when Sam had to believe in himself more than ever, he believed in himself even less. And this time when he heard Sam screaming for him in there, and Cas telling him that Sam just needed to get the blood out of his system, he just couldn't – could not bear to hear it any more. He wouldn't leave, but he needed to get some air.

***

Seven full days passed, an entire week, before Sam was ready to come above ground.

Three whole days were spent in triage: protecting, reacting, cleaning -- listening to his brother scream his throat raw, and not being able to soothe him. Cas stuck around through all that, ready to protect Dean when he went in to adjust the padding around his cuffs so Sam didn't cut off his circulation from fighting too hard, to make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit, and to try to talk his brother out of his own personal hell. Dean wanted nothing more than to take his pain away, but nothing worked.

Two more days were spent with Sam recovering – recovering control of his emotions, muscle strength, and psyche. Those were tough days – when Sam knew what was going on, but still couldn't control or hide his emotional reactions to anything or anyone, and still unable to coordinate abused muscles enough to get anywhere on his own. The cuffs were off, but tremors constantly ran through his limbs, and his eyes were still, at times, wild and unfocussed. Cas announced that he had to continue his search, but Dean was sure he was leaving them alone together so Sam wouldn't be too humiliated by it all. Despite his cluelessness about personal space, he got this right. Cas had done all he could, and only his brother could help Sam now.

The next whole day was spent in silence, alone, when Sam couldn't – wouldn't talk with anyone. Didn't want anyone near him. He retreated to a far wall any time Dean came near, and just folded up and tuned him out if Dean insisted. After an hour of trying to get Sam to respond, Dean left the room but propped the door open, and sat outside the door with his legs clearly in sight. During this time, Dean tried to work on his end of the deal. If Sam was going to get through it, Dean owed this to him.

One more day was spent with Dean, once again, allowed back in the room. Leaning quietly at the open door at first, Dean gradually moved closer into Sam's space, talking quietly and reminiscing, encouraging. And finally, after a whole week, finally Sam started talking again.

But the confidence to walk out that door – that didn't happen till the eighth day. Dean woke up to find his brother staring at the open door – the one he had pointedly propped wide open two days before.

Dean wasn't sure if it was just time, their conversations, or the desperate need of a shower that finally drove his brother out the door and hesitantly up the steps to find Bobby waiting for him there.

"Bobby." Sam's voice was barely there, but he reached out to grasp the hand of the older hunter.

Bobby clasped Sam's hand with both of his. "Damn glad to see you boy. Was getting ready to charge you rent."

"Yeah," Sam ducked his head. "I'm really sorry – Bobby, I can't tell you how much I …"

"Sam, …stop. We're not going to run this through again. Dean already filled me in on what happened, both to you and that angel friend of yours. Now quit making your part in it more than it was." Bobby rolled back to allow the both boys to pass, "The only thing you have to do for me now, is take a shower. You stink, boy."

"Yeah," Sam glanced back at his brother who, for someone who had been complaining so forcefully about the issue, was following awfully close behind, "So I've been told."

"Come on skunk-boy," Dean shoved at his shoulder to move him along, "Wash up, make yourself presentable. Then we can eat."

Dinner was a quiet affair, with most of the conversation going between Dean and Bobby, with Sam only answering questions that were specifically directed to him. After dinner, though, Bobby opened up the bottle he'd promised, and when Sam hesitated, Dean poured a glass and handed it to him anyway. "Drink, Sam. Don't piss off ol' Doc Singer." He poked him with his elbow, "How often does he come up with the good stuff, anyway?"

Sitting on the couch, Sam closed his eyes and let the warm liquid burn down his throat. By the third glass, it really didn't hurt anymore, and by the fourth, he began to join in when Bobby revisited the sordid highlights of the summer Dean turned sixteen. Sam smiled, the warmth flowing through him now having nothing to do with the alcohol.

The logs had all but burned out in the fireplace. Bobby had headed off to bed, and only the light left from the embers remained. It had been a relatively peaceful evening, with Sam relaxing more as the night wore on. Dean watched as Sam's eyes slid closed, sinking back into the cushions of Bobby's old couch.

Dean released a long breath and smiled. Sam had made it, wasn't all the way there yet, but he had fought with everything he had, and had definitely seen his way back to the other side. Dean's chest tightened, God, he loved his brother. And it was then that he truly believed that Famine had been full of shit. Because if pain could be used to prove that he could still feel, and was not completely dead on the inside - then it only made sense that hope, and love, could be used to prove that he was truly alive.

Sam had, in the end, denied what Famine demanded of him, and Dean, in the end, had proven the horseman wrong as well. Despite all they'd done to each other over the past year, it was what they meant to each other that made all the difference. And now it was up to Dean to fulfill his side of the deal.

Sitting on the floor outside that damn panic room on the sixth day, Dean had realized something. As he watched his brother fight for his sanity, Dean found himself believing that it would get be better. He realized now that somehow he had found hope. And if they were both alive, and they were friggin' Winchesters, they would find a way to win in the end. And damn it, if he didn't really believe it.

Right here, right now though, Dean decided the most difficult challenge was directly ahead of him. Pushing himself to his feet, Dean shook his brother's arm, "Come on Sasquatch, time for a real bed. Let's go."

-The End –

So how do you think it was overall?


End file.
